


A Record Overplayed / I Would I Were The Same

by kiath



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-05
Updated: 2010-08-05
Packaged: 2017-10-28 20:38:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/311958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiath/pseuds/kiath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two sides of one story with several years in between.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Record Overplayed / I Would I Were The Same

**Now...**

Dominic looks old. It's not just the buzz cut, a style that emphasises his ever-thinning scalp and rapidly receding hairline; there's exhaustion in his eyes that pushes all the way down to the corners of his mouth when he attempts a smile. He offers a half-hearted greeting, muttering, "All right, mate?" as he leans in to kiss Elijah on the cheek. His breath is stale and it takes all of Elijah's goodwill to not flinch when the smell hits his nostrils.

They sit in the kitchen, sharing what's left of last night's rioja. When the wine runs dry, Elijah finds beer in the fridge. Dominic doesn't explain why he's turned up on an hour's notice, and Elijah doesn't ask. It doesn't matter; not for the time being, anyway. After ten years, he's come to expect these semi-unannounced visits.

It's past two when Elijah starts to hint he needs to sleep. Finally aware of his own ripeness, Dominic suggests a shower before bed, and Elijah dozes off to the sound of water hitting skin and ceramic tile.

*

Elijah wakes some time after dawn, his throat dry and his bladder full. Fumbling for his glasses in the dim light, he urinates first and drinks second, draining one glass of water as he leans against the hand basin, then another. Returning to bed, he's vaguely surprised that Dominic isn't there. They never discussed it; Elijah just _assumed_ he would crash there. He finds Dominic curled up on the couch, dressed in the same clothes as he arrived in. Nickelodeon is on mute. Beer bottles lay on the carpet beside an empty pack of smokes, one bottle having found a second life as a makeshift ashtray.

Elijah stares at him for a minute or so. Dominic's forehead is dappled in sweat and he's drooling on the back of his hand where it rests beneath his cheek and chin. On the TV, Spongebob Squarepants is running across the ocean floor. Elijah takes the remote from the carpet and switches off the set.

"Why are you here?" he asks.

Dominic just sleeps.

*

It's late the next day before Dominic finally decides to open up. "I don't know what I'm doing," he states, cutting off Elijah's idle chatter about the car he was considering buying.

Elijah's slight offense at having been interrupted is far overwhelmed by his curiosity. Getting up from his seat on the back porch, he walks into the kitchen and grabs the last of his beers, twisting off the caps as he returns to Dominic's side. Dominic takes one of the bottles without a thank-you, staring at it in his hands and smudging the condensation on the label with his thumb.

"What do you mean?" Elijah asks as he sits back down, swallowing from his own drink.

"In general. Life and that. Mostly work." With a small sigh, Dominic glances over before fixing his gaze back on the beer. "I think I'm just wasting my time."

Elijah is inclined to agree, not that he'd say as much out loud. Instead he shakes his head and says, "You're not. You've just had some bad luck." Dominic scoffs at that. Elijah knows it's bullshit, too; well-meaning bullshit, but a heap of crap all the same. Dominic's always had a tendency of picking the dud scripts, thinking with boyish enthusiasm rather than a careful career-brain. Bad luck, sure, but mostly bad choices.

His run of mistakes continues later that night when he kisses Elijah in a thoroughly different way to the night before. Dominic's breath smells sweeter this time, edges of cumin and ginger from their take-out mingling with spiced cigarettes and the berry-flavoured vodka found buried in the freezer. "Don't," Elijah whispers, tipping his chin to avoid a second and third mistake. "It's a bad idea."

"That's never stopped you before," Dominic replies, sliding the heel of his hand against Elijah's stomach, pushing his t-shirt up in bunches. "C'mon, for old time's sake."

"Is that why you're here? For a nostalgic pity-fuck?"

Dominic shrugs. "Is that so bad?"

At least he's honest, Elijah tells himself, sighing into the next kiss Dominic presses to his mouth.

*

There's nothing left of their youthful passion anymore; the teenage lust Elijah once felt for Dominic is so distant a memory it feels like someone else's past. He's hard when Dominic reaches for his dick, but the contact doesn't make his stomach clench anymore. "I still miss you," Dominic admits as he drops to his knees. A scornful _bullshit_ is on the tip of Elijah's tongue, but he swallows it as Dominic swallows him, groaning with unexpected gratefulness. His fingers remember tufts of fine hair, something to grab, a grounding device for moments like this. They find that damn buzz cut. The brief moment broken, Elijah pushes back from Dominic, looking for the man he once thought he would always want and seeing the tired reality staring back at him.

"Can we just fuck?" he asks, too frustrated to think straight.

It's been a while; it hurts. Dominic apologises, tries to slow himself down, but Elijah knows Dominic's too strung out to really care as much as he should. Afterward, they lie side-by-side in silence until sleep saves them from one another.

*

"I should go," Dominic announces the next morning. "I'm sorry about--" Words clearly fail him, and he just sighs instead of finishing his apology. "Y'know."

Elijah's still dozing; all he can do is mumble, "It's okay," into the pillow. He's not quite sure what he's forgiving Dominic for. For showing up unannounced? For the bad sex? "Do you, like, feel better?"

"Not especially."

Elijah turns over at that and stares at Dominic. "Look, you don't have to leave if you're not ready. Hang here as long as you want. Really, it's cool."

"Thanks," Dominic offers a vague smile that doesn't reach his eyes, "but I think it's best I go after last night."

Elijah wants to tell him to forget last night; reassure Dominic that they were both just drunk and horny; that bad fucks happen to good people, and that's fine. Instead he just nods and says, "Sure."

Dominic is gone less than an hour later.

\-----

**....and Then**

Elijah looks excited. It's more than just the broad grin: his happiness lights up his entire face. Dominic can't help but beam back and put his all into a back-slapping, bone-crushing hug. Elijah smells like Head & Shoulders, and Dominic bites back the urge to quip, "I didn't know you had dandruff." There are times and places for stupid jokes that would no doubt need explaining. Or not, Dominic tells himself, filing the line away into his _Use: Never_ category. 

"I can't believe you're here, it's so cool!" Elijah babbles, still beaming as he backs out of the hug. "You want a drink of something? I've got beers, wine, vodka..."

"I didn't know they served twelve-year-olds booze in LA," replies Dominic, ducking when Elijah reaches out to playfully slap him on the head. "Easy there, Frodo. No need for violence. Not yet, anyway."

Elijah sticks his middle finger up and leads Dominic to the kitchen. "You've been here twenty seconds and already with the insults. How I _haven't_ missed that. Beer, then?"

"Actually, a cup of tea would do me right now." Dominic shrugs at the eye-rolling he receives in return. "Oh, stop that. I've flown several thousand miles and I'm desperate."

Elijah grins. "As the actor said to the bishop."

"Just get the fucking kettle on, will you?"

*

It's only an hour or so later when Dominic finally gives in to his jetlag. As he shows Dominic where he will be sleeping, Elijah can't help but tease him for his weakness, ignoring Dominic's pleas for clemency based on the horrendous connecting flight he had to take to avoid journeying down to London. "You cheap, lazy bastard," Elijah crows, gasping dramatically as Dominic shoves him against the wall in childish retaliation. "Hey, watch the paint, fucker - I only just moved in!"

"Give over, it's just a hallway. Where's my bed?"

"You have two choices," Elijah replies, opening the first door they come to. Inside, the windows have no curtains, the bed is a bare mattress propped up against the wall, and the carpet is practically invisible on account of all the still-unpacked moving boxes. Dominic looks at the scene and then back at Elijah, who's flicking the bulb-less light on and off to demonstrate another failing at Hotel Wood.

"Wow, look at all the effort you made for me. I don't know how to say thank you."

"Yeah, sorry about that." Elijah at least has the decency to look sheepish. "I planned to clear it out but stuff got in the way." 

"Oh, well, that's okay then. As long as it was _stuff_." 

Elijah ignores Dominic and pushes him further down the hall. "Option two is you can crash with me. If it's not, like, um, weird." Dominic looks at him with a little smirk, enjoying Elijah's sudden skittishness. "If it's weird, there's always option three."

"The bath?"

"That's option four. Option three is the couch." 

"Weird option two it is."

*

Dominic wakes up at dawn. It's the kind of decisive return to consciousness that signals there will be no revisiting the land of nod until much later that day; the worst kind, in fact, considering it's only five am. He turns to see Elijah still sleeping with his eyes open just enough for it to be creepy, and stifles a snort of laughter. Dominic climbs carefully out of bed, finds his camera and takes a picture. 

The flash doesn't bother Elijah in the slightest. "You're a freak," Dominic mutters affectionately. 

Elijah just sleeps. 

*

They spend the day at the beach, hiring a wetsuit and a second surfboard for Dominic. Exhausted and sunburnt, Dominic stares at the rapidly setting sun and sighs contentedly. "I don't know why I'm bothering."

"With what?" Elijah asks. "With surfing? You're not _that_ bad, man."

Dominic laughs, throwing a handful of sand his way. "I'm out of practice, okay? Not that many beaches back home, you know." 

"Excuses, excuses..."

"That's what I mean though," says Dominic, trying to drag them back to the point. "Bothering. With home. Why am I doing it? I should move here."

"For, like, good?"

"Why not? I would get loads more work here, right?"

Elijah shrugs. "Sure. But I thought you wanted to go back to England. What changed?"

"Have you ever been somewhere that will always _be_ home, but doesn't really _feel_ like home anymore?" 

"Not really," Elijah admits, "but I see what you're saying. Does this feel like home, then?"

"Maybe."

*

Dominic's surprised when Elijah kisses him later that night, right in the middle of a distinctly unsexy episode of _Seinfeld_. Elijah's breath is heavy from the lager they drank in a tourist-trap bar close to the beach; it's pleasantly masculine and familiar, a sense memory that sends Dominic back eighteen months in an instant. "Hey," he murmurs, pushing Elijah gently away, "What are you doing?"

"Nothing." 

"Felt like something to me."

"Mm-hmm. Me, too," replies Elijah, smiling impishly and leaning in again.

Laughing, Dominic places his hand on Elijah's chest and pushes a little more forcefully this time. "You're drunk."

"So are you."

"Yeah, but that doesn't make this a good idea."

Frowning, Elijah sits back of his own accord for the first time. "You don't want to fuck?"

"Kinda." Dominic thinks better of his automatic response the second it leaves his mouth. "No. I mean, I thought we were past that. I thought _you_ were past that." 

Leaning in to kiss Dominic again, Elijah pauses and shrugs. "I'm allowed to change my mind."

* 

It's easy to fall back into, the sex. Too easy. It's like pulling on an old pair of jeans, Dominic thinks as he watches Elijah struggle to remove his own, clumsy with haste. There's a lot to be said for comfort, especially when it's down on its knees, smiling that way.

Dominic comes undone so easily, he doesn't know why he bothered to put himself back together in the first place. 

*

"Stay." It's the first thing Elijah says the next day, the-morning-after-the-night-before. Dominic can only stare at him, wondering what that one word really means. "Here, I mean. Move out here. With me," Elijah clarifies, staring back with wide, earnest eyes. 

"I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Nothing we ever did was a good idea," replies Elijah, huffing out a nervous laugh. "Doesn't mean it wasn't _good_." His hand finds Dominic's stomach under the duvet, fingers stretching out and then digging in just a little. "And last night was definitely good."

Dominic takes a deep breath and lets it out through his nose. "One night does not a relationship make. What makes you think it'll be any better this time? Any _easier_?"

"Because," Elijah states, like it's the answer to everything.

"As eloquent as al--"

" _Because_ , Dom." Elijah cuts Dominic off, pushing himself up on one elbow so he's looking down, taking control. "Because I fucking _miss_ you, okay? Because I think we were stupid to give up so quickly." He flops back down on his back and stares at the ceiling. "Because I'm an ass and I messed up and I'm sorry and--"

This time it's Dominic's turn to cut off the conversation. He does it with a hand to Elijah's mouth, pressing it palm down to silence him. "All right," he says, nodding when Elijah raises his eyebrows. "Yeah, all right. Let's do it." He takes his hand away, and Elijah smiles. It's disarmingly hopeful. 

"Yeah? Seriously?"

Dominic nods again, ignoring the flutter of misgivings in his stomach and smiling back. "Yeah. Seriously."


End file.
